


Six Times with Cersei

by catherineflowers



Series: Six Times [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adultery, F/M, Sibling Incest, Twincest, Vignettes, beautiful golden fools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 06:23:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14949291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catherineflowers/pseuds/catherineflowers
Summary: "They live in a strange dichotomy. Safe and unsafe. Safe because they are brother and sister – they can have dinner together, walk together, be alone together. But unsafe – so unsafe. Shadows and bolted doors. Hushed cries and hurried coupling."





	Six Times with Cersei

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CaptainTarthister](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/gifts).



> Wanted to try my hand at Cersei/Jaime for so, so many reasons. Has there ever been a ship so rich, so complex with glorious potential? 
> 
> Based more on the timeline of the show than the book.
> 
> Dedicated to my buddy CaptainTarthister who is so much super fun and is not one of the haterz.

The First

Sunlight. Golden sunlight – Lannister gold. Glinting on the gold of his armour, warming the bright white of his cloak.

She thrusts on top of him, feet on tiptoes either side of the creaking wooden chair he sits on. Her golden hair falls across the milk-white softness of her breast. The pearl-white bite of her teeth on the perfect peony of her lower lip.

The gold chain on her neck. The golden lion between her breasts. Swinging.

His hand, held hard to her hip, slipping to her thigh. Her name like a hiss between his clenched teeth. “Cersei …”

Her finger on his lips. Hushing him. Her hand on his, urging him on. Hurrying him.

He’s heat. He’s breath. He’s blood. Roaring through him like fire.

Eyes tight, teeth tight, muscles tight, then tighter still. He leans back in the chair to thrust up into her harder and harder. The scrape of the chair legs on the stone floor. Their abandoned lunch.

She holds his face to her breasts as he comes, smothers his grunts in her flesh and kisses the sweat from his brow. He jerks, and quivers, and spends, hard, inside her.

His cock is still pouring seed when she gets off him – pulling her bodice back into place, rearranging the skirts of her long red dress. Jaime uses the white cloak to clean himself, tucks his cock away and relaces his breeches.

She makes to leave, but he catches her by the wrist and pulls her onto him again for a powerful kiss. Fire and sex and destiny. There are no women like this one. Only Cersei.

 

The Second

Only Cersei.

She slaps him. Calls him a stupid cunt. He loves the snarl her lips form as she spits out the word, the dangerous green glare of her eyes.

He is a stupid cunt. Stupid and reckless - but he doesn’t give a fuck today. If Robert or Varys or Pycelle or any one of her handmaids had walked in and seen him waiting naked in her bed, he would simply have killed them. Taken Cersei by their cooling corpse.

She doesn’t know how many whores her husband fucked today while he stood guard. A stream of them, giggling and gathering their skirts as they ran in and out of the royal bedchamber. Jaime saw them, every one. Judged their arses and their teats and their faces and their hair. Their skin and hands and voices and none of them were Cersei, none of them were close.

Robert is the stupid cunt.

He can’t see the storm inside this woman, the iron. The Lion. He’s not man enough to hold it for his own.

But Jaime is. He’s man enough to grab her by the arms and pull her to him, man enough to stop her rant with a roar of a kiss. Claw her dress off, shred her skirts. Pounce into the soft warm flesh beneath.

“Only us,” he tells her as he fucks her from behind. Not even sure what he means himself.

But Cersei knows. His thoughts are hers. She hisses “Yesss” into her pillow, him take her in her looking glass. Two animals. One person.

Afterwards they lie end to end on her bed, panting and sated. He naked and she clothed, his eyes open and hers closed. Summer sweat giving lustre to their golden skin.

He reaches out to touch her. Holds her foot.

And everything goes back to the beginning.

 

The Third

Someone knows. Maybe. Maybe Jon Arryn, maybe Varys, Maybe Littlefinger. Cersei is cautious. Cersei is furious.  
  
They live in a strange dichotomy. Safe and unsafe. Safe because they are brother and sister – they can have dinner together, walk together, be alone together. But unsafe – so unsafe. Shadows and bolted doors. Hushed cries and hurried coupling.

He has her against the wall in her dressing chamber, despite her protests. Despite the danger. Her skirts pushed up, her legs wrapped around his back, his breeches at his ankles. Her teeth on his ear, then on his lip. Nails on his back, on his neck, biting, scratching.

She is hungry fire, lapping and burning at everything he is. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care if she destroys him, burns him to the ground. If they know ….

Tomorrow his head could be on a spike. Tomorrow he could be stoned in the streets, hung or tortured or rotting in a black cell. Tomorrow he could be on his way to the Wall.

But tonight he’s here, in Cersei, and Cersei is in him.

 

The Fourth

He dreams that he’s with Cersei, and Cersei takes his pain.

No. There’s only pain. His dreams of her run red with it, cracking her image, cracking her face. Distorting it and twisting it until she’s monstrous – as monstrous as the wench he’s pressed against, delirious, vomiting, shitting in his pants.

This is what life is like when he’s alone. It’s a horror, a raw scream. A mindless sawing agony. His hand … his hand …

Fuck his hand. Fuck the pain. He needs Cersei, needs her in his head. If she’s not part of him, he’s dead.

He pulls her image close to him, wrapping her around his pain like a shield. Would she kiss him if she were here, tied to him on this horse instead of the wench? Would she soothe him, love him, wash the vomit from his beard? He doesn’t want to guess.

No matter. It’s angry Cersei he needs right now, Cersei spitting fire. Cersei screaming at him, slapping him, mocking him for his manhood and his weakness. She’ll take him through this.

She’ll be waiting for him too.

 

The Fifth

She is beautiful to look upon, but she’s a liar.

She said she feels whole when he’s inside her, but he’s not whole. He’s empty, burning, fevered, howling for his loss. He should feel whole when he’s inside her, but he doesn’t. She needs to give it back to him, give him back what he has lost.

In return, he wants to give her his life. To have her take his life from him, everything and everything and _everything_.

He hurts her. Holds her wrists down on the table, crossed beneath his hand. Tears her smallclothes. Bites her nipple, hard enough to make her bleed, three crescents of Lannister crimson.

They are Lannisters. Fuck his father and his fears. Tywin fears them being a snigger, a joke, an innuendo. But this thing they have, this sickness for each other – it’s beautiful and powerful and it’s the only thing they have that isn’t Tywin’s.

He’s drowning in her and she in him. He can’t bring her children back to her and she can’t fill the hole left by his sword hand. But still they fuck. Sweat and pleasure, hunger and thirst, one person in two bodies.

He is hers.

It’s all he is. She’s all he has.

She reaches down between them to pull his cock out of her body, slick and glistening in the soft candlelight. She caresses him with her hand, tip to balls and back again. Again, again, and faster now and faster. Mouth open with hunger, eyes on his eyes, breathing his breath, legs around his legs.

He comes in hard white spurts to her touch, on her hand, on her dress, on her thighs. Shuddering and needy, finding a moment’s absolution in her kiss.

He is loved. He is loved.

“I love my brother,” she whispers, and he knows.

 

The Sixth

“Don’t ever betray me again,” she whispers against his shoulder as he embraces her.

A hand of ice around his heart that hurts. But Cersei’s hurts heal with just a little swallow – he’s hers now, just as he has always wanted. What’s a little more poison between them? There’s nothing left to die.

Then she takes him to her bed and nothing matters. Nothing matters.

He takes his time undressing her, making sure he touches every part of skin that he reveals. Kisses, nibbles, licks and tastes. Despite their countless years together, there must be so many parts of Cersei’s body that he hasn’t had the chance to kiss.

He kisses them now. White flesh, divested of that cruel-cut black dress, the scent of her skin, the scent of wine and furs and her. She arches up to meet his mouth, a white line from throat to rib to hip to leg. And between her legs – the pulsebeat of his life. His life. His life for her, for Cersei. Always. Fuck the rest.

Has any man ever known love like this? He doubts it.

It’s a love that leaves him weak. A love that lets her burn cities, start wars, murder with impunity while he stands watching. Only loving. Always loving – it’s enough.

She’s on top of him now, and he misses the golden fall of her hair around his face, pooling on his chest, the sweet summer smell of it. But her body, her naked body against his naked body, nipple to nipple and lip to lip... She rides him hard while they kiss and kiss and kiss. Her tongue, her hands. Her belly, soft from their babies, from their baby yet to come.

He can’t hope to last. He’s never learned to last with Cersei. He doesn’t need to.

She doesn’t hush her cries this time so he joins her, their voices rising in unison, in time with the thrusting of their hips. They can be heard all down the corridor he thinks, all through the keep. But he has no more room for thoughts - just Cersei, mind and body.

She cries his name as she finds her pleasure, holding his face, holding his hand. Teeth bared and nose flared. He’s a heartbeat behind her, his muscles and her muscles tightening together, releasing together, always together.

Always, always.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Only a brief dip of my toe in these waters, little more than an experiment, so please be kind. I'd like to write more if this isn't utter garbage and going to get me spat at in the streets!
> 
> I am thinking of doing a companion piece from Cersei's perspective as I have never written as her before and I thought that may be AWESOME.


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